Chapter Seven
When he reaches for his gun and finds the holster empty, I pull it from around my back, then point it at his chest and smirk. “Looking for this?” So fucking cliché but I am so fucking proud of myself. I feel extremely powerful right now.
Everybody falls silent again and this time I’m in charge.
“Sweetie, do you even know how to use that gun?”
I drop the clip, check the chamber, estimate there to be at least six bullets in total, replace the clip, click off the safety, and my smirk becomes an evil grin. “Do y’all know how to run from a bullet?”
“Holy shit,” Joseph hisses, his tone awed.
Nokosi has a brow raised, but he also has his hands raised, so do the truckers when I slowly point the gun at them one by one, letting it drift back and forth like the gentle waves on an ocean shore.
“The rest of you got any weapons?” I ask, keeping them pinned to the counter. If they separate, I don’t much fancy my chances of winning, even with the gun.
They shake their heads.
“Check them,” I tell Nok.
“Don’t you fucking touch me, you buffalo jockey.”
“I can’t see any,” Joseph states, leaning around them. “I’m not getting close enough to find out for sure.”
I raise the gun higher, pointing it at Greasy’s face and take a step closer.
“Good,” I answer and relax my shoulders. “Now… hand over your money.”
Greasy laughs, throwing his head back with it.
I pull the trigger, and everybody yells and ducks, sounding panicked. My ears ring for a second but the space isn’t compact so it’s not too bad. My head feels a bit hollow from it and my hand aches but nothing enough to make me flinch.
“What the fuck? You crazy bitch!” Butthead yells and now they all have their hands up as dust flutters and swirls around us from the hole in the ceiling.
“This is a gas station!” the cashier shrieks, sounding seven pitches higher than before as he hides under the counter. “Are you trying to kill us all?”
I shrug. “Always said I’d go out with a bang, may as well be this kinda bang. Quick, painless, hopefully.” I wink at Nok, dipping my head back so he can see it. “But then again, I like a bit of pain from time to time.”
Nok’s eyes flare, I saw it, I fucking felt it between my thighs.
I quickly look away and stare down Greasy instead, feeling wave after exhilarating wave of adrenaline pulse through my body.
“Now hand over your fucking money,” I bellow at them, pointing the trigger at his head now.
The truckers behind him scramble for their wallets. I look at Nok. “Take every penny they have. Snap their cards.”
He smirks, his brow still raised in that alluring way, but he does it. Quickly too.
“You’re going to regret this, bitch.”
“Just get the fucking gun, Bill, she doesn’t have it in her to shoot anyone!” one of the truckers hisses. I point the gun at his face and pull the trigger without hesitation.
It clicks a hollow sound and he shrieks like a child and drops to his knees with his hands over his face.
“Silly me,” I sigh, dramatizing my tone, “I forgot to crank it after my last shot.” I look at Nok and Joseph. “Isn’t that lucky?”
Nok’s lips thin to a white line, he’s fighting back his laughter and almost failing.
“Now now, stop crying.” I check the chamber and point the gun at them again, keeping my finger off the trigger just in case I accidentally pull it. It’s tempting. “You have the money?”
Nok nods and holds up a roll of cash.
I unzip my protective jacket pocket and motion for him to put it inside. He does so and I try to inhale deeply to catch his scent, but my helmet is all I can smell. Shame. He always smells good. I could smell him in class today too. So earthy and manly and masculine. Ugh. I almost feel bad for doing what I’m doing to him.
When he zips me up, I look at the truckers again. “Get in the bathroom.”
They surprisingly comply, two of them grabbing the one that’s on the floor and drag him to the back of the store, over the white tiles that could use a clean.
“Phones,” I demand and Nok takes those too as Joseph stays as a lookout.
“Thank you kindly, my good native sir,” I jest, putting my thick Southern accent back on.
He laughs under his breath and can’t wipe his smile. I think I’ve impressed him.
When they’re backed into the corner of the bathroom I can’t just stop here. I’m having too much fun. This is exhilarating.
“Now, get on your knees.”
They do so, grumbling and cursing, looking humiliated.
“Kick him in the face,” I insist.
Nok hesitates, giving me the side eye. “He’s down.”
“So?”
“So… he’s down.”
“He called you a black prairie boy.”
He tenses. “He’s down. I’m not kicking a man while he’s down.”
“He’d do it to you, to your brother, your dad, your gran… he doesn’t give a fuck. Teach him a lesson.”
He turns to face me fully and waves a hand at them. “You want me to be as bad as he is?” Despite his protests I see the glint in his eyes, the thirst for violence and vengeance.
“I want you to get a good kick in before we lock them in this bathroom.”
“He’s fucking down. I’m not about to kick a man while he’s down.”
I raise a brow, wanting to push him more but I can’t risk sticking around. The last thing I want is the cops on my case, Mom would kill me and Willow is too weak to move again right now. I’m lucky nobody has walked in yet but then again this is a small town and we are on the edge of it. If these are the kind of people this gas stop attracts then it’s no wonder it’s so dead here.
“Pussy.” When I look at the truckers, I flip down my visor. “It was nice meeting you, gentlemen.”
“Fuck off,” Butthead snarls and Greasy spits at my feet. “Shit skin-fucking bitch.”
I smile when Nok spins, his temper maxed out. His booted foot flies out and connects with Greasy’s jaw. I see it snap to the side, probably breaking when it does. Blood sprays across the tiles in a pretty pattern and he hits them cheek first with a jarring thud. The sound it makes… fuck. So nice. You just can’t replicate that sound. No movie has ever done it justice.
“Fuck yeah,” I breathe and swallow to make my mouth moisten. “Nice hit.”
“You absolute cunt! You broke his jaw!”
I raise the gun to the man who starts to stand, and he quickly gets back on his knees. I smirk at him, not that he can see it through the helmet.
“Maybe you’ll think about that the next time you mess with a shit skin-fucking bitch and her band of merry natives.”
“I want to laugh, but it’s not really appropriate,” Joseph calls from the gas station.
I back out of the room, using my hand on Nok’s chest to push him with me. Then I slam the door shut and lean around the shelf to look at Joseph. “Get me the key for this fucking thing.”
The cashier hands them over and Joseph tosses them to Nok who uses them to lock the door and then tosses them back to Joseph. I won’t admit aloud that I watched his shoulders and arms as he moved and enjoyed every second.
“Well, it’s been fun, boys, but I’ve got places to be and shit to do.” I put the safety back on the gun and tuck it into the front of my pants.
“My wallet,” Nok demands, sounding gruff.
He holds out his hand but I thrust my chest forward slightly, making my play.
“Get it yourself.”
He laughs once and wets his lips. “Oh, it’s like that, is it?”
I step closer to him and walk two fingers up his chest. “Either you get it, or I leave with it.”
Smirking, he holds my eyes as he lowers his hand into the V of my jacket. He could just unzip it a little more for better access but where’s the fun in that? He wets his lips and slides his fingers between the stiff material of my jacket and my shirt, grazing and brushing my heaving breasts with his hand as he searches for his wallet.
I turn, putting my back to him, the back of my helmet thumps against his shoulder as his hand dips further into my jacket. I hum happily, enjoying his touch which is rare for me because normally I hate the touch of anybody.
“Take your time,” I whisper just as his hand grasps it and slowly starts to drag it to freedom.
He stops at my breasts again but then one of the truckers starts kicking and screaming at the door.
“SHUT THE FUCK UP!” I yell back and he stops.
Nok moves away much to my disappointment.
“Time to go,” I say brushing past him, putting an exaggerated sway to my hips. “Have a good evening, boys.” I look at the cashier. “If I catch wind of the cops sniffing around, I’ll come back.”
He audibly gulps. “But what if they call them?”
I laugh because I know that those greasy fucks have got more to lose than a gun and couple of grand if the cops get involved. “Truckers aren’t snitches. Are you?”
“I didn’t see anything.”
“Attaboy,” I cheer and exit, the door beeps on my way out.
I go to my bike and get the fuck out of here before anybody can stop me to talk. That was so wild. I can hardly breathe.
So fucking wild and so fucking dangerous.
Twenty minutes later when I walk into my house still buzzing with adrenaline, my sister greets me. She recognizes the glint in my eye immediately.
“What happened? Something happened.”
I fluff out my hair and dump my helmet onto the windowsill. “You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”
She taps her foot on the ground. “Is he the guy?”
I hesitate, still panting. “Jury’s still out on that one.”
She huffs and stomps upstairs as fast as her frail legs will carry her.
I wish she could have felt what I just felt. We both have completely different tastes in fun these days, but I suppose that’s to be expected.